


freakish

by brokenlittleboy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:31:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenlittleboy/pseuds/brokenlittleboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Words can definitely break some bones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	freakish

Sam’s huddled over a book, as always. He hasn’t touched his food, and dully Dean counts that as the fourth time this week that research has won out over health in Sam’s mind. Across the booth, Dean chows on his own breakfast, and pokes Sam with his fork. The only response this gets is tired annoyance; Sam flicks him a frown before returning to his work.

"Eat your food, dude. That book can wait," Dean orders with a full mouth, which kind of takes away from his fatherly command.

"No. I’m close." Sam bites out stoically, but even so, he takes a small bite out of his pancakes. Dean counts this as a minor success.

"Close to what, sugar?" their waitress asks. Dean hadn’t even noticed her approach.

Sam jolts very slightly, not often caught by surprise. His cheeks are reddening as he looks up and smiles thinly at here. “I’m uh, doing some research for a paper,” he explains, voice shaking, and Dean grins and leans back to watch the show.

Uninvited, she looks over his shoulder and stares down at the slew of pages around him— newspapers, books, notes, the works. “Oh!” She exclaims, and the tray in her hand teeters dangerously. “You’re talkin’ about all that ghost hullabaloo that the folks ‘round here love to gush about,”

"Uh, yeah," Sam confirms shyly, scratching the back of his neck. Dean burps loudly and Sam glares quickly. Dean winks at him in return. The waitress- Rosie, her tag reads, notices none of this.

"That’s a whole lot of stuff you got goin’ on there. I’m kind of impressed. You must be some kind of freak!" She manages to say all this with a big, cheesy smile.

Sam flinches as if he’d been slapped, and his face goes completely white.

 _Oh, shit._ Dean’s own food has been long forgotten, and he swears he will never forget the look in Sam’s eye just then. He flashes a toothy smile up at the waitress, stands up, and grabs Sam’s arm all in one fluid motion. The next moment, he’s leading Sam to the door, arms stuffed with books, yelling back “the money’s on the table!”

Confused, Rosie waves as she watches them go. “Come back soon!” she calls, and Dean knows they’re never coming back.

In the car, Sam still hasn’t spoken, just plays and fidgets with his hands. Dean knows he’s embarrassed, knows he has no reason to be. “You know she didn’t mean it,” Dean begins softly, and doesn’t start the engine. “She didn’t know. And you’re not, by the way. You’re just a friggin’ genius, ‘s all,”

"Yeah." Sam sniffs. "Yeah."

"We’re good?"

Sam smiles up at him, an honest-to-god smile. It’s the little things that matter. “Yeah. We’re good. I’m kinda hungry, though,”

Dean scoffs. “Please,” he says, but drives to another diner anyway.


End file.
